


Fireflies On The Porch

by frankismyrealname



Series: Fluff Therapy With Ineffable Husbands [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, M/M, No Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 18:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankismyrealname/pseuds/frankismyrealname
Summary: I had crappy day so I wrote hurt/comfort fic. If u have a crappy day you can read a hurt/comfort fic.Basically I'm just projecting my problems on these two.





	Fireflies On The Porch

There are days in life, usually when someone is in age from nineteen to six thousand, when you seem to have no energy. When you feel old, sick, and kinda like dying jellyfish. When you just don't feel like doing anything at all. You could have the best life in the whole fucking world, but these days just HAPPEN sometimes and there's nothing you can do about it. 

And if they aren't going from single days to months, it's alright (if they do, it's depression. Find a therapist, please), but they're still unpleasant. Or are they? After all, are dying jellyfishes feeling anything…?

Anyways, going back to the main point, days like these happen. And Aziraphale through his a little more than six thousand years of lifetime, had countless occasions to get to know them better.  
He wasn't stupid, and was aware that they always will show up in the least expected moment like a pimple on the face of desperate teenager. (Though as an angel, of course, never experienced the latter, and I'm talking about both pimples and being a desperate teenager)

But, just like in our very relatable example, no matter the time and place, when the metaphorical pimples showed up, it was the worst thing in the universe. 

And… well. Today was The Day. 

***

It's supposed to be nice and happy day; the evening beforehand, when he didn't even notice the tiredness hiking up his bones, they planned with Crowley that they will go visit Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell. The old couple (okay, mostly Madame Tracy, who absolutely adored Aziraphale) have been inviting them for a while now, so why not? 

They're supposed to be there at 5 pm. Now though it was 4:30 pm and Zira still wasn't ready. And by that I mean "he's been laying pretty much lifelessly on their bed since 12, with no awareness of time moving on"

He also wasn't aware that Crowley was already on his way back home from his quick visit to Adam and The Them.  
(For the demon, sent from seven circles of Hell, the very same who invented Tik Tok and Smule, he was surprisingly soft when it came to children. And The Them were entertaining, on the level that was above standards, so spending time with them was even more fun.)

***

Crowley always had the same kind of entrance to their home; the one that you'd probably see in some old, family-friendly tv show, where every episode looks pretty much the same, but everyone watches it anyway.   
"Angel? I'm home!" He announced, standing on the doorstep, and taking off his glasses. He was one of the few people in the world who even a simple activity like this were able to do in the most dramatic way possible. 

Usually in this moment, Aziraphale would go out of his room to greet him. Or call him from the balcony. You know, like any normal person would. 

But today the only thing he was greeted with was silence.   
(Because we're all going to ignore a shaking plant, standing in the corner.)

"Angel…? Oh"

That… definitely was not something Crowley was prepared for.   
What he expected earlier was Zira, doing something domestic before they'll go off to London.   
What he started to expect two minutes ago was also Zira, but maybe in version of reality where he somehow hadn't heard him. Or fell asleep. 

What he saw once he opened the door, was his angel, starting blankly at the book, like he wasn't sure what to do with it. Not even reading. Just… looking at it. Crowley wasn't even sure if he remembered to breathe.   
"Aziraphale?"

The angel looked like he's just been woken up from some deep trance. He blinked, looked around, and then his sight has landed on the demon.   
"Are you alright…?" That may or may not have been a stupid question, but Crowley just had no idea what was going on right now.  
His brain was just going "what, what, why, how, is he okay, w h a t, how long, what's for lunch, what, why"

"What? Oh, yes, of course!"   
You're lying, thought Crowley. His angel was clearly in some kind of distress, and he was not going out of this room until-

Oh, wait, never mind. Aziraphale just went around him, and headed towards the bathroom, saying:  
"I'm quite fine, I guess I just- forgot that time is actually flying like- how is called that bird that flies really, really fast? Anyway, you don't have to worry, my dear boy, I'll just-"

"Lemme stop you right there" interrupted him Crowley, making two long steps and standing right in front of his friend. His bullshit alarm was ringing so loud that he was pretty sure Aziraphale could hear it too. "Clearly something isn't Completely Alright, angel. You're a crappy liar, you know?" Seeing him, raising both eyebrows- which, by the way, was the most expressive face he pulled out today- he shook his head and added:   
"Okay, this probably isn't the most comforting thing I could say right now but-" oh for anyone's sake, why they couldn't have some telepathic bond so he wouldn't have to use Actual Words…" but I just, I just see you're not okay today, yeah? And I wanna help you. Because, cause I love you, okay? And I basically promised you not so long ago, that I'll be here with you. No matter what. So talk to me. Please?" He took Zira by both hands, drawing little circles on them with his thumbs.

He wasn't sure why he felt the need to do that, but one thing was sure: it was trying out telepathy, at some level. 

Aziraphale looked like he was analyzing every word separately, until he finally spoke.  
"Crowley, shouldn't we- shouldn't we already go out and head to London?"

"Ngk, no. We should not. Shadwell and his sweetheart miraculously forgot about the tea. They'll remember again in a week." He talked, at the same time pulling his angel by the hand towards his bedroom. He then sat Aziraphale on his bed and asked again;   
"So…?"

The angel didn't answer for a short while. 

You see, that was the exact moment when he started to snap. Something tired was flooding into his bones, and suddenly, there were unexplainable tears in his eyes. He pushed his palms into sockets, to the point when he saw stars.   
Scarcely now, when his hand landed back on his lap, he spoke again.   
"I'm just feeling… unexplainably tired today, you know? Like I gained 200 years of life in one night, if that even does make sense to you. Or like I turned into sack of whiny potatoes. I don't feel like doing anything, because… why even? But, I'm sorry that it got to the point when it's worrying for you, my dear boy."

Crowley was sitting completely still for like, a minute and a half, deeply contemplating something. Then he got up so suddenly that it was almost startling and, again pulling angel by the hand, commanded:  
"C'mon, you ball of angst."

"Where are we going..?" 

"On the porch. We will cuddle and enjoy the season, and inhale a lot of fresh air."

"Oh." 

It was getting dark outside. Semi-dark. This kind of dark when reading would be challenging, but you can see some more general stuff. 

They sat, side by side, on wooden steps of their porch. Leaning against each other, with Aziraphale's head snuggling into Crowley's arm, and Crowley's hand drawing some silly patterns on Aziraphale's side.   
The angel shuddered slightly. Though it was April, it was surprisingly col-   
Oh. The river overflowed. 

Which here means "Aziraphale got so tired of himself and his stupid mind, and fact that Crowley was worrying about him because of his- as he thought- completely irrational reasons, that it all gathered up inside of him and he started crying". 

He didn't have a breakdown like that since 1939. 

Crowley didn't say anything to this. Or at least, nothing coherent. 

He just turned his favorite marshmallow of an angel, so they were facing each other, and embraced him tightly, placing between his legs. 

"There there…" he had no idea why he felt the need to say this. I'm not really sure if he was thinking anything at all in this moment, because his mind was in one hundred percent focused on one thing:  
"My angel needs me right now and I'd get, completely rationally, damned again if I wouldn't try to comfort him"  
(To be honest it wasn't that grammatically correct, but it was close to this)

One of his hands was buried in Aziraphale's hair, tucking his head in demon's neck, where hot tears soaked the side of it. The other one was- he tried to suppress the feeling that it had to look very awkward- rubbing angel's back. And he didn't stop shushing him softly.

He knew it was pretty much pointless, and Aziraphale just needed to let everything out, but he kept doing this anyways. It was just his instinct, this   
need to comfort and, in some way, protect him.   
(From himself, as Crowley was guessing. When you're 6000 years old, you know better than anyone how much of a fuck up the inside of your head can be.)

He wasn't sure how long they were sitting there, but when Aziraphale started to calm down, it got really dark. 

"Hey, look" said Crowley, very quietly, but it wasn't whispering yet "You have a firefly in your hair"

He took the bug in both hands, opening them slowly when they were back on his lap. It was, indeed, a firefly. It wasn't the only one, to be specific- the night's out, the fireflies are too. There was plenty of them in their garden. 

"Oh, dear… it's a really nice specie, for a bug" His voice was small and cracked at this point. 

"I'd want to say that I invented them, but that'd be literally the worst lie I said since The Black Death epidemics. 

"I'm not sure if I even want to know what it was"

"Good. It was really horrible... Anyways, go, fly towards the freedom, little lightbulb… oh, there's another one. Why are you flying here, stupid? If I wasn't so-" he almost said nice. Ew "-So bug-friendly, I could crush y'all in one second. Go away"

Crowley couldn't see it, it got too dark, but while he was chatting with fireflies, his angel started to snooze on his shoulder. 

But when he noticed... well. Though in the morning they'll wake up damp and with hurting backs, now they're happy on some level. So let's leave them like that.


End file.
